Eternal Enchantment
by Yuri-san
Summary: They always ask him where he's been every night and he always answers "walking", until one evening he says "I don't know". Ron and Hermione suspect a memory charm, but from who, and why...? SLASH. DMxHP


A.N. Yeah, I started ANOTHER one. So shoot me. Actually, don't, wait, please do. I'm in friggin' misery either way. One piece of advise: Love SUCKS.

So I'm in over my head with all these stories... once again: so shoot me. O.K. enough of that. Onto something that won't leave you going 'huh?' Well, unless you don't understand a lick of Latin, then your in a bit of a rut. Just kidding, it's only a few (translated) words.

WARNING: If ANYONE yells at me about my Latin (spelling, grammar, ect.) then I will take my editor's (she's Ryo-sama btw) point seven mechanical pencil and stab you until you... are in severe pain. Oh, yeah, and this is a slash fic. Oh, yeah, and there's OOTP spoilers... sorta. (If you want to _politely correct_ me, e-mail me).

I promise this is a short story (three to five chapters including the epilogue).

* * *

Aetenus Medicatus- (Eternal Enchantment)

Chapter 1- Periclitor (Trial)

He left the Common Room at the same time every night- not for a particular reason though. It had suddenly become a routine when he had entered his sixth year at Hogwarts. He went- nowhere in particular and came back exactly an hour later and acted like everything was normal.

"So... where'd you go?" Hermione asked as Harry came back into the Common Room one November night.

Harry shrugged. "Nowhere really. Just walking." It was their routine. She asked, he answered.

"Like every night," Ron murmured sarcastically.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Just like every other night."

Ron suddenly slammed his fist down on the table where he'd been working. "When are you finally going to tell us where you're _really_ going?" he demanded.

Harry stepped back a step. His face showed a mix of confusion and hurt. "I told you. I just walk around."

"_Sure _ you do," Ron spat. "It just happens to be at the _exact _same time _every_ night. Don't give me that again. Tell-" he was interrupted by Hermione firmly but politely pushing him back down into his chair.

She walked to Harry, set her hands on his shoulders and studied his face silently. Finally she whispered," _I_ believe you Harry. Now, let's all go to bed. It's getting late."

"Wha-" Ron began to protest. Hermione shot him an warning glance and he shut up reluctantly. Once Harry had left the room, he said to her, "You _believe_ him?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Did you actually _look _at him before you started yelling at him?"

"Yes," Ron shot back defensively.

"What did you see?" she asked

"Harry," he answered.

"Ron, he was telling the truth," Hermione insisted. "I could see it in his face. If he was lying, then it was because he honestly doesn't know the truth."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"I mean-" Hermione stopped. "All we can do is wait and see what happens."

* * *

Draco Malfoy smiled grimly. It was so perfectly flawless that he couldn't even begin to fathom how he had thought of it. It was all placed on a foundation memory charm and built up from there. It was a spell so that the "victim" would forgotten that he'd forgotten anything most of the time, but for an hour he or she would remember what they forgot most of the time, but forget that they had forgotten it before. The spell had to be checked daily and be carefully and delicately repaired. But, other than that, it was perfect. It was exactly what he had wanted and needed it to be.

In a sense, it was a part-time torture tool that worked full-time. It enabled the user to torture (physically, mentally or emotionally) a victim for a short amount of time each day, and the victim kept the pain, but forgot what caused it until the same time the next day.

His victim had been none other than the boy who lived, Harry Potter. He_ was_ after all the reason that Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban..

At first it had been simple, punches, kicks and things of that nature. Then it had progressed to psychological jabs about Sirius (his death in particular), his parents and his past. Of course, Harry had fought back at first, that is until he realized that he usually ended up wandless and tired. It was easier to give in, since he couldn't remember these things usually and when he could, he couldn't remember that he had even ever forgotten.

But, after a while, that wasn't enough. It had all become too routine. There needed to be a change, something to shake things up a bit.

That's when Draco discovered that little kisses and touches and nibbles made Harry squirm. Somehow, they destroyed his dignity, these little intrusions of personal space. Those were the small things that broke Harry. And a broken Harry was a sad Harry. And a sad Harry made for a happy Draco. Right?

So why wasn't he happy? Because he had broken one of the rules. He had fallen for the victim...

* * *

Harry woke up early the next morning, as was normal and expected. He dressed and went to go to breakfast, when Ron stopped him.

"Harry, Harry wait!" Ron said. "C'mere, you're a mess." And he was right. Harry's tie was untied, his shirt was untucked and he had two different color socks on.

"A mess?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah," Ron answered. "Tuck in your shirt, I'll take care of your tie."

After Harry was finally straightened out, the two of them went down to breakfast. As they went to their table, they passed Draco, who was smirking haughtily. Memories shot through Harry's head like a bolt of lightening. A warm hand on his thigh, another up his shirt, someone kissing him... and then they disappeared. Harry shivered. What was that...?

* * *


End file.
